


Words I Couldn't Say

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, On the Run, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What she has to say would take far more space than anything from Hallmark provides, but she still tries..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words I Couldn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> To the people that are as emotionally attached to these nerds as I am, thank you for ruining my life. Also, written in large part because I am just so curious about those missing years between The Truth and IWTB. Thanks for reading!

A tinny voice announces a sale on a name brand nail polish over the loudspeaker as they step into the store. The cold air is a welcome contrast to the harsh heat. For a moment, Scully stares down at her own nails, chipped and brittle, but decides against it.

Mulder grabs a basket and hands her one as well before gesturing his head in the direction of the food section of the store. “I’ll meet you at the register,” he says, giving her shoulder a squeeze before walking away.

She watches him, treading slowly with his head bent forward, doing his best to look like a normal customer and not at all like the fugitives they are. The way he cranes his neck, carefully scoping an aisle out before walking down is a remnant from their days as agents. It’s only been a few years, but as he disappears around the corner, she can’t help feeling like it’s been so much longer. She swallows hard and loops the handles of the basket around her arm, heading in the opposite direction, repeating the scanning motion he did just moments before. She knows full well they don’t have much time.

She picks up a bar of the soap she knows he likes, a shampoo that smells like days gone by, and a box of tampons, mentally going through the list they prepared before leaving the one bedroom apartment that for nearly a year they referred to as home.

They’d gotten comfortable, complacent even, until the day before when Mulder had come barreling into the bathroom while she was shaving her legs and told her the men he’d seen studying them earlier in the week were sitting at the end of the street, watching their building. She’d tried telling him it could’ve been a coincidence, but Scully knew that wasn’t true. They should have known better than trying to leave their guard down. She watched as he frantically tossed things into bags, telling her they didn’t have time to pack it all and they’d have to stop at a store in whatever town they landed in next to get everything else they needed.

A section of hair dye caps off the aisle she’s standing on, and for a second her eyes fall on a box of vibrant red. She sighs wistfully, tugging at the end of her ruddy brown ponytail, knowing it’s not worth the risk. She tosses a box of something resembling blonde into her basket instead and rounds the corner before the sight of cards stops her in her tracks.

There are ones for women, men, boys and girls, all with cheesy phrases no one would ever say in real life and colors both bright and pastel. It’s the aisle she’s walked down countless times in the past in others stores without much thought, but today she stops, alarms ringing in her head about the date. Her free hand moves from the place it’d been resting on her stomach, reaching out for a card in the shape of a toy train. A smile tugs at her lips, tears clouding her vision.

She closes her eyes, and just like that, she sees an auburn haired little boy, toddling on his tiny legs, a train mirroring the one on the card in his hand, calling out for his mama to watch what he can do.

“Hey, there you are. Look, there was a sale on--”

The sound of Mulder’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. She shakes her head and plasters on a smile, but not before he apparently sees the sadness that had been there moments before. “Hey, sorry, I got distracted...I only have a few more things to grab, did you finish getting food?”

He nods absently, eyes honing in on the card in her hand, and what day it is clicks for him. “Scully…”

She shakes her head, fighting the lump growing in her throat. “Not Scully, Mulder,” she says, the card in her hand shaking. “It’s Deana, remember?” She knew when they’d picked the aliases that it perhaps was too spot on, but somehow, for the previous leg of their lives, it had stuck.

“Yeah, we’ll need to change that,” he replies with a laugh, trying his best to lighten the mood. “So, the chocolate bars you like are two for one today. I only got two, but we’ve got some extra cash, maybe I could go back and get more?”

“He’ll be three today. _Three_. I don’t...I don’t even know if he likes trains. I just…”

Mulder watches her place the card back on the shelf. “I tell you what,” he says, fishing in his pocket for the keys. “You go turn the a/c on in the car, get it cooled down. I’ll finish up in here.”

She eyes him curiously before taking the keys from him and handing him her basket, walking back into the heat.

Later on that night she emerges from the bathroom, toweling off her freshly colored hair. She wraps the robe that has somehow managed to survive each trip despite other clothing they’ve had to leave behind tight around her and looks around the cramped space they’ll call home for as long as they can. “Mulder?” Scully calls, almost expecting him to chastise her just as much as she had him earlier in the day. They’re not supposed to call each other by name anymore, but old habits die hard. She finds him hunched over the rickety table that’s meant to serve as their eating space, hand furiously writing something down. “Hey,” she rests her hand just above the collar of his shirt, thumb absently rubbing at the exposed skin of his neck. “Is everything alright?”

He sets down the pen, moving his arm to reveal what he’d been working on.

She sees the card she’d held at the store sitting open on the table, the blank side nearly full with Mulder’s slanted scrawl. “You bought it?”

He shrugs, hand reaching up to massage one shoulder. “I know it’s a senseless thing to do, money we can’t afford to spend, but…” his tongue darts out, moistening his chapped lips. He tries reading her face, scanning it for any sign of how she feels about his spur of the moment decision. “I just...I wanted to remember. To, I don’t know, Scully, just to mark this day somehow. I know it’s something he’ll never read, but I just--”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Mulder. I understand. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide these things or apologize to me,” Scully says, surprising even herself. She pulls out a chair, sliding it closer to his, and sits down. It’s the closest they’ve come to talking about their son in months, about what they’ve been through and what they’ve lost, and while she’s not sure there’s ever a time to address it properly, his birthday is as good a time as any. “I talked to him some, after--” her voice trails off, finding it difficult to finish the sentence, but trusting that Mulder would understand. “I’ve missed so much. _We’ve_ missed so much. I don’t even know what his favorite color is, or if he might even like trains, what he might be allergic to…”

“Don’t do this, Scully. You can’t let yourself ponder what if, especially not today,” he replies, though he knows it’s no use. Nothing he say can bring their son back. As he casts a glance around the best apartment he could find at a moment’s notice, he regretfully thinks, and not for the first time, that it wouldn’t be the safest life for their son to return to anyway. Even if they both wanted it, such a thing seemed impossible. “He’s safe. He probably spent today eating cake and opening presents, because of what you did. That’s what’s important.”

She nods, looking down at the table rather than at him. “It doesn’t always feel that way. I just wish that things were different, Mulder. I wish that he knew how much--”

“Then tell him,” Mulder says, pushing the card across the table. He hands her the pen, pointing at the card with his other hand. “Happy birthday, or that you love him...whatever you wanna say, write it down.”

What she has to say would take far more space than anything from Hallmark provides, but she still tries, tentatively picking up the pen and starting to write the things she wishes for their son on a day she knows will always be delicate for them both, for all three of them if she is being truthful. After a few moments, she finishes and hands it back to Mulder, watching as he slips it into the envelope.

He writes _To William_ in big letters on the front before writing the date underneath and setting it on the table, letting out a tired sigh.

She wonders if this is some new tradition they’ve started, or if it would be best to leave the date unacknowledged in the future. She doesn’t have much time to contemplate it however, because Mulder soon jumps from his chair, bounding into the kitchenette area and declaring that he wants to set about making dinner.

“I didn’t grab much, I’ll probably have to go out later this week, but I thought something made at home might be nice for a change.”

“Yeah,” she says, crossing the room to stand before him. She watches as he opens the fridge, stocked with a few small staples like milk, eggs, and orange juice, and coughs to clear her throat. “I don’t suppose you’d like some help?”

“From you?” He asks, taking a swig of the orange juice straight from the bottle. “Anytime. Oh, and uh...the hair?” Mulder continues, raising an eyebrow. “It’s nice.”

Scully ducks her head, feeling her cheeks blush from his attempt at cheering her up. “I just wanted to try something different.”

He puts the orange juice back in the fridge, resting one hand on the open door and bringing the other up to cup her cheek. He hasn’t said anything about how tired she’s been looking lately, mostly because he knows he’d never hear the end of it (and also because she’s beautiful anyway), but he’s also certain that he probably looks worse. “We’ll be okay, Scully. You and me. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

She leans into his touch, grateful for the warmth it provides. Her smile is sad and she leans in, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him, softly at first but gradually deeper as he lets go of the fridge door, wrapping his arm around her waist. After a few moments they pull apart and she rests her forehead against his. “Thank you.”

Mulder shakes his head before shifting his weight, planting a kiss against her temple. Over her shoulder, he can see the card envelope sitting on the table, and he thinks of all they have lost. It’s a small miracle they’re standing and sharing the same space, despite everything they’ve been through. His stomach growls, breaking the silence that surrounds them, and he kisses her once more on the lips before pulling away. “Now, about that dinner we were discussing? I believe you volunteered to help?”

“Of course,” she replies, crossing her arms as she watches him pull a few cold items out and setting them on the counter. “Someone has to make sure it’s edible, after all, right?” It’s meant as a joke, and she laughs at the way he pretends to be offended, even though she knows he’s putting on a show. She likes this lighter side of him, she thinks, hip bumping against his as she tells him to turn on the stove, and she’s a little sad as she realizes it’s not showcased more often. They decide on spaghetti for dinner; a cheap version with sauce from a can and store brand noodles, but it’s delicious none the less. She wonders if William likes noodles, if he’s fallen asleep with tomato sauce staining his tiny cheeks, but is stopped from venturing too far down the road of what if by the sound of Mulder’s voice. “Hmm?”

“I asked if you could grab the meat from the fridge. The pan’s heated up. You okay?”

She grabs the hamburger, for a second wondering how he’d had the foresight to grab a frying pan before they’d taken off yet again, before answering his question. “Yeah,” she says, feeling sure of it despite the niggling feeling of doubt. “I’m okay.”


End file.
